


A Single Voice

by rhodrymavelyne



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-04
Updated: 2019-12-04
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:40:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21673843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhodrymavelyne/pseuds/rhodrymavelyne
Summary: Will revisits his long neglected piano, finding himself reliving a memory which never happened at a dinner party he never attended.
Relationships: Alana Bloom/Hannibal Lecter, Alana Bloom/Will Graham, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	A Single Voice

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place during the third season after Will confessed to Jack that he wanted to run away with Hannibal. I don’t own Hannibal, but for the past several months it has owned me.

I touch the keys of my piano with slow hesitation. It’s out of tune. Playing it, allowing the music to wash through me could be every bit as devastating as reliving a crime scene. Only I’m not saving anyone when I play. I’m simply damning myself to relive my memories, drown in my own thoughts. 

I’m not sure when I stopped playing. I could never bring myself to throw out the piano. Now after confessing the truth to Jack, I sit down in front of it, finding my way through an old melody I can’t quite bring myself to admit was a composition. Perhaps it would be more of what Hannibal would have called a discovery. 

I visualize him sitting in front of his harpsichord, discovering something as he explored its dark melodies without fear or guilt. Did he ever think of me when he played? What did he think about?

I doubt he exhibited his talents at his dinner parties. No, there would have been string quartets as he presided over the feast he’d so thoughtfully provided, watching each face, popping a morsel of meat into his mouth. 

I have to keep reminding myself of that meat, that feast, even though I never attended one. I wonder what it would have been like chafing at a tuxedo or suit, observing Alana and the other ladies in their evening gowns, while Hannibal filled his own tuxedo with broad-shouldered elegance. 

He never pressured me to attend these parties, only let me know I’d be missed. He was only too willing to arrange private dinners for just the two of us where he was far more open about what he’d serve. Once I’d initiated such a dinner myself, he was eager to improve upon it, show me a little of the dark and deadly magic behind the curtain. 

The curtains would be prominent at one of Hannibal’s dinner parties, distracting all the guests with its elegance. No one would guess what lay behind them. No one except for me, skulking at the edge of the gathering, not speaking to anyone, trying not to broadcast my discomfort. There would be too many people, their thoughts and desires pressing in on me. I’d need to seek out what distance I could.

Only Hannibal wouldn’t allow me to be distant. His dark eyes would find me, fix upon me even amidst the throng. 

“Will.” Hannibal walks towards me, giving me the full strength of his steady appraisal. “Don’t tell me you’re more intimidated by my parties than the cannibalism involved with them.”

I have to laugh at this even if it’s true. 

“The cannibalism and the murders involved with them are things I’m used to. Somewhat.” I glance off to the side, avoiding the quiet force of my therapist’s attention. I can always fix my own elsewhere. “Parties I’m not.”

“I truly need to get you accustomed to them.” Hannibal touches my chin, refusing to let me slip away, forcing me back into the here and now. “There’s nothing inside any of my guests worse than what you’ve already seen.”

“There are too many of them at once.” I turn his head with slow reluctance, admitting what he’s probably seen and noticed already. “All those voices run together, becoming noise. It’s overwhelming.”

“Which is why you’ve always chosen to live out in the middle of nowhere.” Hannibal turns his touch into a caress. “I can teach you to pick out a single voice amongst the crowd. It’s a bit like listening to music.” 

I lean into that caress in a way I’d never dared to in public, let alone in private. “How?”

“Close your eyes.” Hannibal keeps his hand and his gaze fixed upon me. “Do what you do at a crime scene. Focus on the one person you wish to fill your thoughts.”

For a moment I glance at Alana, watching us with a wistful suspicion. Just how much did she care for me? How much had my transformation broken her heart?

Perhaps as much as seeing the monster behind the man who’d been her friend, mentor, and lover. Alana’s pain grieves me, it always has, but she’s not the one my wish fixates upon. 

I meet Hannibal’s eyes, swallowing my own fear as I’d once swallowed it in a prison cell to look directly at him. He smiles, teasing me with the enigma of whatever lies behind it. Just how much of the smile is real? How much of him is?

I let the pendulum swing back, seeing Hannibal a few hours ago, sitting at the harpsichord. I sit there, letting the sorrow and pride wash over me. 

Will, Will, you truly have skewered my heart. Never have I felt such sorrow and pride as I do for you. This composition is for you, this theatre I’ve created for the F.B.I., for Jack, ending with the capture of the Chesapeake Ripper and the return of Miriam Lass. For I really ought to return Miriam to Jack. After all, I have no intention of letting Jack keep you. Not in an institution and not in the F.B.I. 

Not that you’ll find any comfort in the latter. No, when all is lost, you’ll turn to me. 

I see the stage he’s created, the little house, the pit. I see the bodies, strung up with lures. I see Abel Gideon, wincing as he faces Hannibal at a dinner table, missing several limbs. 

“You wanted to know the Chesapeake Ripper.” Hannibal gazes Gideon, but he’s looking through him to me. “You want to know if he loves you.”

The pendulum swings in my mind, bringing me back to the party, to Hannibal caressing my face. He smiles at me one more time when the golden light erases him and the party, bringing me back my piano. 

It’s just me and the dogs, who cringe away from me. Only Winston remains close, sitting near the bench, head cocked in an inquisitive way. He’d take this pain away from me if he could. 

I reach out my hand. He comes closer, sniffs it, and allows me to stroke his head. 

“I’m sorry.” I wish Winston could take this pain away, too, only I fear no one can. 

No one except Hannibal.

**Author's Note:**

> The comment, "You wanted to know the Chesapeake Ripper" is from Episode 6, Futamono in the Second Season.


End file.
